


Put A Lock On It

by cycnus39



Category: Iron Man (Comic)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:06:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cycnus39/pseuds/cycnus39
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony wakes up to an unexpected gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put A Lock On It

He wasn’t going to get up. No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t even going to move a micron. He was just going to keep on lying in bed with the sun warming his back forever. Yes, he was. There was absolutely nothing that could get him out of bed right now. Absolutely n--

His stomach growled loudly. 

Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to fool his body into thinking he was still asleep.

A heartbeat later, it growled even louder. 

Okay, so he was hungry. That didn’t mean--

His stomach broke into an all out demanding snarl for food, any food, as long as it got it now. Hungry? Scratch that, he was just-had-sex-with-triplets-all-night-wonder-if-Pepper-threw-out-that-two-day old-pizza-yet-starving.

Damn it.

He squinted open one eye and scowled at the sunlight streaming through the window. That didn’t look like morning sun. In fact-- His stomach growled again.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” he growled back at it, moved to get up -- and froze. 

There was a foreign object tugging on him. 

It felt hard, heavy...metal? 

Pure dread at the prospect of having fallen asleep with a cock toy still attached to him again catapulted him into full wakefulness and he threw off the bedcovers, sat up to find...a padlock on his balls.

There was a padlock.

On his balls.

A padlock.

It was resting warmly on his balls, trapping them in the bottom of their sac.

It was a Master Lock combination padlock.

HIS BALLS WERE TRAPPED IN A FUCKING MASTER LOCK!

Okay, okay. 

Breathe.

Everything was warm. Nothing was numb or hurting. That was good. Good.

Good?

HIS BALLS WERE TRAPPED IN A FUCKING PADLOCK!

Okay.

He could handle this.

All he needed was the combination.

Five numbers were all he needed for this to be over.

Five little numbers.

Taking a steadying breath, and his balls and the padlock in his left hand, he reached down to fish his cellphone from the pile of clothes on the floor. It wasn’t until he retrieved his cell that he realised he didn’t have any of the triplets’ phone numbers. Not one. He’d met them at the party and never had any intention of seeing them again. There was no need to get their numbers.

Fuck!

He banged his head against the mattress four or five times and then briefly considered suffocating himself in the pillows before remembering that Rhodey was talking to the triplets before he muscled in. Rhodey. Thank god for Rhodey. Rhodey would have gotten their numbers. He hit the speed dial and Rhodey answered on the second ring.

“Tell me you’re on your way,” Rhodey demanded. “Tell me you’ll be here on the test range any minute now.”

Shit. The VTOL presentation. “Was that today?” he returned with a wince and then held the cell away from his ear as Rhodey bellowed back at him.

“Today? You’re damn right it’s today and I told you that eight hours ago when you said you were sending the triplets home.”

“I did send them home...maybe a little after that. Listen, Rhodey, about the triplets--”

“No, no, no. Tony, no. I’m not getting into that. Just tell me your ETA.”

He winced again. “Well, that’s the thing. I kind of don’t really have one,” he replied before holding the cell away again as Rhodey bellowed again.

“Don’t-- Where the Hell are you? Don’t tell me you’re still in bed because I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m still in bed.”

Silence except for a soft popping noise that could have been a vein in Rhodey’s temple exploding. 

“Rhodey?”

Heavy breathing as Rhodey got his temper under control.

“Okay,” Rhodey finally said, “get your ass out of bed and into the shower and get over here ASAP, got it?”

“Fine but I need one of the triplets’ numbers first so send me it now, okay?”

“Excuse me?”

“I need it now, Rhodey.”

“Need it?” Rhodey snapped back. “I’ll tell you what you need, and it’s not shower sex with triplets. Get over here!” Rhodey hung up.

Rhodey had actually hung up on him.

That ungrateful-- He hit the speed dial again.

“It’s nothing to do with sex, Rhodey, I just need to speak to one of them,” he growled as soon as Rhodey answered. “It’s urgent so just give me the goddamn number already!”

“Ah-huh. You want to speak to one of the three gorgeous women I found last night and it has nothing to do with sex? Right. I’ll tell you what, Tony, you get your lazy bed ass over here and then I’ll give you the number.” Rhodey hung up on him.

Again.

Okay, that was it. Enough was enough.

He hit speed dial again and as soon as Rhodey answered, he shouted, “My balls are in a padlock, Rhodey. A fucking padlock. Now give me the number!”

There was a long pause before Pepper asked cautiously, “Tony? Are you okay?”

Oh God.

This time he did bury his head in the pillows and seriously considered suffocation. But that wouldn’t get his balls out the padlock.

“Tony?”

He had to say something.

“Tony? Are you still drunk?”

Maybe a little. Okay, probably.

“Tony?” she asked again with growing alarm. 

“Hey, Pepper. Sorry about that. I was busy doing something,” he replied in an extra calm, singsong tone. “I hope you are having a good day. Could you please give Rhodey back his cell please?”

“What’s wrong, Tony?”

“Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing wrong, Pepper. I just need to speak to Rhodey,” he continued in the same tone. “Please give him back the cell.”

There was a pause before Pepper conceded. “Okay. Just a second.”

“Thank you.”

Ten seconds later, Rhodey said, “You better--”

“A PADLOCK!” he yelled down the cell. “THEY PUT MY BALLS IN A PADLOCK, RHODEY!”

Stunned silence.

Then...laughter. Rhodey was laughing at him?

“You-- You’re laughing at me?” He blinked in disbelief. “You’re actually laughing at me, Rhodes? Okay, you wake up with your Isaacs in a Master Lock and you see how fucking funny you think it is!” He ended the call and threw the cell across the room.

Ungrateful bastard.

Okay, deal. He had to deal with this.

Resting his unhappy Sir Newton on his thigh, he inspected the padlock and his trapped Isaacs more closely. 

The padlock was the kind of large, top of the range, stainless steel, combination Master Lock that made opportunist thieves cry. That was the bad news. The good news was that the shackle was roomy and completely unrestrictive. However, as roomy as the shackle was, there was absolutely no chance of squeezing an Isaac through it. 

Ugh! Why did he have to go think of that? Just the very idea made his eyes sting and his Isaacs draw up for safety and now the padlock suddenly felt very restrictive. 

What on earth were those girls thinking? Didn’t they know you never put anything on a person the person couldn’t take off again? They were evil, evil women. What did they do? Carry around a variety of padlocks in their purses to make sure they had one to fit every hapless victim? Evil triplets. He’d went to bed with the triplets of evil.

His cell started ringing from the far corner of the room. It was Rhodey. Which meant he had to get up and answer it.

Hell.

Okay, so maybe the padlock was lighter than it seemed, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Still holding his Isaacs and the padlock, he rolled off the bed. Then, standing and digging his toes into the thick carpet, he began to carefully ease his hand away, letting his Isaacs take the-- Weight! Too much weight! 

Cupping his Isaacs and the padlock against his body protectively, he made it across the room, grabbed his cell out from under the chair and answered it with a, “What?”

“Okay, sorry I laughed,” Rhodey said but still sounded far too amused. “Have you tried picking it?”

“Picking it? Why didn’t I think of that?” Tony returned sarcastically. “Oh, yeah. I know why. It’s because it’s a COMBINATION LOCK!”

“Quit yelling at me, Tony,” Rhodey growled back. 

“Yelling? My balls are in a padlock, Rhodey. Given the circumstances, I’d say I’m being remarkably calm.”

“Yeah, well, if you hadn’t stolen the triplets from me, you wouldn’t be having this problem.”

“Exactly. I did you a favour.”

“A favour? You did me a favour?”

“Well your balls aren’t in a padlock, are they?”

He could almost hear Rhodey mentally counting to ten.

“Okay,” Rhodey sighed. “Since I’m going to be the adult here, I’ll use the numbers I got and find out how to save your balls.”

“Thank you. I’d really appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll call you right back. Just hang tight.”

Hang tight? “Very funny, Rhodes.” 

Rhodey just sniggered and ended the call.

Why did everyone think they were a comedian?

God, he needed a drink.

Cell in one hand, Isaacs and padlock in the other, he walked through the apartment to the bar and poured himself a finger of Cognac, downed it in one long drink. Then, since that was a waste of a fine Cognac, he poured himself two fingers and then sat down on a stool and sipped it slowly until Rhodey called back a few minutes later.

“Okay,” Rhodey began as soon as he answered, “I got Sindy and she told me they wrote the combination number on your Johnson.”

He quickly checked Sir Newton. 

Nothing. 

Panic rising, he looked more carefully. 

Still nothing. 

“What did they use? Invisible ink? There’s nothing there, Rhodey!”

“That’s what she told me! Did you check everywhere?”

“Thanks for the flattery but I’m not that big.”

“Keep dreaming, Stark. I meant did you check anywhere else? Maybe they missed your weapon of mass destruction and hit your thigh?”

Easing up off the stool, he inspected the inside of his left thigh and then his-- “Fuck.”

“What?”

“I see it but it’s--” He stretched the skin on the inside of his right thigh a little but it was no use. “It’s just a blur, Rhodey. It’s a total fucking blur!”

“Can you make out anything at all?”

“No. Do they remember the number?”

“They wrote it down so they wouldn’t have to remember.”

“Did you ask?”

“Of course I asked. She laughed and said you were the freak ass genius.”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Look, Tony, I hate to leave you like this but I have to get back to the presentation. Call a doctor and a locksmith and call me later, okay?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

“Tony?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Rhodey.”

He ended the call and banged his head on the marble bar top. “Ow.”

With the pain still lancing around his skull from his attempted blunt instrument lobotomy, he downed the last of the Cognac in the glass, poured himself another two fingers and tried to think.

Okay. He had about a hundred things he could use to break a padlock down in the workshop but there was absolutely nothing he wanted to put anywhere near Sir Newton and his Isaacs. Absolutely nothing. And since working through the possible sequence permutations by hand would take an impractically long time, that left following Rhodey’s suggestion and calling a doctor and or a locksmith. And he wasn’t anywhere near drunk enough to do that yet.

He had drank down the last two fingers of Cognac and then abandoned the glass to swig straight from the bottle when his cell rang again. Steve this time. He seriously considered not answering it but then for some reason did.

“I’m a little busy right now, Steve,” he sighed.

“Yes, I’m sure, like you were last night,” Steve returned bitterly.

He blinked. “What?”

“It’s not that you let me down, Tony. She was really looking forward to you being there.” 

Had he just fallen into a twilight zone? “Where?”

“Theresa’s gallery opening,” Steve ground out. “It was last night.”

Hell!

“You accepted the invitation last week, remember?”

“Yeah, I do. I’m sorry, Steve. I’m really sorry. It completely slipped my mind. I’ll make it up to you, I promise, but--”

“I told you it’s not about me. It’s Theresa. You let her down badly.”

“I know, I know and I’m completely truly sorry but I--”

“I asked her not to but she told everyone you were coming. And then, when you didn’t show--”

“Yeah, it must have been really bad and I’ll make it up to her, I promise, but--”

“And how are you going to do that, Tony? Not everything can be mended with a charming smile and a handful of cash. She was really--”

“My balls are in a padlock!”

Silence.

Then, a few rapid heartbeats later, Steve said low, “That’s a very colourful metaphor, Tony, but--”

“It’s not a metaphor, Steve. It’s a combination Master Lock.”

Silence.

“I woke up half an hour ago with it on,” he explained, “and I just found out the combination number’s lost so you’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little bit preoccupied right now.”

Silence.

“Steve?”

“A padlock?”

“Yes.”

“A padlock on your...”

“Yes.”

Anyone else would have asked how the Hell he had managed that one. Steve just asked, “Are you all right?”

“It’s not hurting me but it’s not exactly the most comfortable thing in the world either. I tell you, Steve, you don’t realise how heavy these things are until they are hanging off a vital part of your anatomy.”

“Have you called someone?”

“I’m going to.”

“What do you mean you’re going to?”

“I mean I’m going to. I just need to...do something first.”

Steve sighed. “You’re drinking, aren’t you? It’s half past two in the afternoon, you’ve just got out of bed and you’re drinking.”

“I’ve got a padlock on my balls! I think I’ve earned a drink.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t the padlock get on you in the first place because you were drinking?”

“Corrected. The padlock got on me because I was consorting with evil women. Triplets are evil, Steve. Just say no.”

“Uh...of course. Tony--”

“Look, I have to go finish this bottle before I call someone to free the Isaacs so I’ll call you later, okay?” he said then hung up before Steve could talk him into calling an ambulance or something equally as embarrassing. He then put his cell on divert before taking a long swig of Cognac. 

On the fourth swig, he decided to console Sir Newton with a few strokes. On the tenth stroke, his Isaacs wanted to join in the fun so he gave them a gentle tug and squeeze and suddenly the presence of the padlock didn’t feel so bad. 

Hmm.

After a few more strokes, tugs and squeezes, he carefully eased up and away from the barstool without holding onto the padlock.

Whoa.

Okay, that was still kinda heavy but also kinda good. He stood a little more comfortably and continued stroking Sir Newton. Actually, that was a lot good. So good in fact that he needed to lie down and do this properly.

He looked over at the couch. It was only twenty feet away but he didn’t know if he wanted the padlock tugging on his Isaacs as hard as it might if he started walking. 

He took another long swig of Cognac. That was better. What he’d do is start walking slowly and if it tugged too much, he’d just cup everything until he sat down. Good plan. He took another swig then took a step -- and immediately cupped everything. 

Fuck! Some things were just not made to knock against metal. But Sir Newton was still interested so he gave him a few apologetic strokes before heading over to the couch with the bottle in one hand and his Isaacs and the padlock in the other.

Putting the bottle down on the floor, he sat down on the very edge of the centre couch seat, let his Isaacs hang over and then carefully released the padlock again. 

Oh, God! The jolt of arousal at the pull of the padlock went straight to Sir Newton and he had to start stroking him hard and fast, lie back on the couch and pinch and twist his nipples, arch up into his own harder, faster strokes. As he tensed and writhed towards orgasm, he felt the padlock’s tug increase but paid no attention. The slight tickle of pain just added to the ever building pleasure until, quite suddenly, his climax overwhelmed him and he came shuddering, spurting warm semen over his hand and stomach and it was so unbelievably good.

But the feeling of utter euphoria didn’t last for long. As soon as his orgasm started to ebb, his Isaacs started feeling really quite uncomfortable, so much so that he had to carefully shuffle them and the padlock up onto the couch seat even before he managed to catch his breath. But it was okay. When the padlock stopped tugging, his Isaacs stopped complaining and Sir Newton settled down on them to soften contentedly. 

Damn, sometimes it was great being him.

He lazily reached over the edge of the couch and grabbed the bottle for another long swig of Cognac.

So damn great. 

* * * *

He must have fallen asleep. That was the only logical explanation for Captain America and Doc Samson touching his cock and balls. Actually, they weren’t in their uniforms so it was only Steve and Leonard fondling him. That was a bit disappointing. He’d have to get his subconscious to dream up something--

“Tony?” Steve queried while pushing his hair back from his face and he belatedly realised through his sleepy, drunken haze that it wasn’t a dream, that Steve and Leonard really did have their hands on him, really were touching him. And he really was naked. And he really was enjoying it. 

The sound that left his throat as he tried to jerk away from them was more a choked yelped than a growl of indignation but it didn’t matter. Steve was pinning him down on the couch so soundly he wasn’t going anywhere no matter what kind of noise he made.

“Maybe you should sedate him?” Steve said.

Sedate him?

“He’s already drank enough alcohol to sedate a buffalo,” Leonard returned dryly. “Just hold him still. He might pass out again.”

“I’m not going to pass out so get the fuck off me!” he hoarsed and bucked but Steve held him down. Fuck! Just how powerful was Steve?

“Calm down, Tony,” Leonard sighed. “It won’t hurt if you just--”

“You’re damn right it won’t hurt because you’re not doing it!” He bucked against Steve but Steve just held him tighter so he tried to kick out and felt Leonard’s ridiculously strong hands pin down his thighs.

“Stop fighting us,” Steve hissed irritably. “I thought you wanted the padlock off?”

Padlock?

Oh.

The padlock.

Okay, embarrassed much? If all his blood hadn’t been rushing off to harden Sir Newton, this would have been quite a humiliating situation instead of...quite a humiliating situation.

“Of course I do,” he blurted out while willing Sir Newton to go back to sleep. “But you don’t have to crawl all over me.”

“Crawl on you?” Steve growled. “I’m stopping you from moving and possibly hurting yourself when Leonard starts cutting.”

Cutting? He stared at Steve and felt his Isaacs attempting to recede past the shackle of the padlock. “Cutting? Who said anything about cutting?” 

“How else did you expect to get the padlock off?” Steve returned.

“It’s just a small surgical saw, see,” Leonard put in, showing him possibly one of the most lethal looking objects he had ever seen in his entire life. “It will cut through the steel in about a minute.”

“A small surgical saw for who? A tool steel elephant? Get that thing away from me, Len! I’ll keep the padlock.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tony,” Steve told him gently. “Leonard knows what he’s doing. Trust him.”

“I’ll ease my finger in between the shackle your scrotum,” Leonard said. “I won’t let the blade anywhere near you, Tony. I promise.”

“It’s already too near to me,” he complained but stopped fighting. Keeping the padlock wasn’t really an option.

He felt Leonard shift between his legs before saying, “Okay, Tony, I want you to hold your penis out of the way while I get your scrotum ready.”

“Jesus, Len, I hope you’ve never said that to anyone before,” he replied, suddenly hoarse again as he caught hold of his happy and still hardening Sir Newton and held him against his abdomen. 

“Now you’re going to feel my finger press against your scrotum a little bit,” Leonard continued evenly. “I’ve put some Vaseline on the side of my finger that’s going to touch you to stop any friction so it will feel a little slick.”

A little slick? It felt so damn good he couldn’t help but give Sir Newton a squeeze when he twitched in appreciation.

If Leonard noticed, he didn’t say anything.

Steve was also suspiciously quiet.

“Okay, Tony, I’m going to switch the saw on now. It will be a bit loud when I start cutting through the shackle but I’ll stop cutting after about ten seconds to blow the shavings away.”

Blow? Did Leonard just say blow?

The saw abruptly began squealing against the steel and he jumped despite himself, probably would have hurt himself if Steve wasn’t holding him down so firmly. Then the saw stopped again and Leonard’s warm breath caressed him, made him try to arch up for more, squeeze Sir Newton harder than before, begin stroking him-- Hell! He abruptly stopped moving and just lay there, thighs trembling, hoping no one had noticed.

“It’s okay, Tony,” Leonard said low. “You can masturbate. It will help keep you calm.”

Did, did he just hear that right? Did Leonard just encourage him on? Damn it! Leonard had known along, which meant Steve knew too. Of course they knew! They weren’t idiots. He must have been lying passed out on the couch with semen drying on him when they came in and he’d started getting hard again as soon as they touched him. It didn’t take a sex therapist to work out he was horny. 

Why did crap like this always happen to him? If it had been-- The saw started again and he jumped again and this time the feel of Steve’s body heat, Steve’s strength holding him down, was one of the most erotic things he’d ever experienced. God, he was getting so ridiculously aroused just lying under Steve. Captain America was making him hard. How wrong was that? Was he that much of a deviant? Well, obviously yes he was because then Doc Samson started blowing on him again and he couldn’t stop his hands stroking and squeezing, didn’t want to stop his hands stroking and squeezing, kept going until he came so hard he passed out.

* * * *

He was lying curled up on his side on the couch. 

There was a blanket on top of him.

He heard someone across the room sipping and then the soft rattle of crockery, opened one eye to see Leonard sitting on the couch opposite him drinking coffee. 

Coffee. He needed coffee.

As if reading his mind, Leonard sat forward and picked up the coffee pot to pour another cup. He elbowed up as Leonard came around the table and accepted the cup gratefully when Leonard handed it to him.

“Everything went fine,” Leonard assured him with a smile while moving back to sit down on the opposite couch. “How do you feel?”

Sir Newton and his Isaacs were warm and relaxed against his thigh but he was as embarrassed as Hell so he just nodded and drank the coffee.

“Steve had to leave,” Leonard went on.

Of course he did. Holding a conversation with someone who masturbated under you wasn’t exactly--

“He said he’d like to see you at the exhibition tonight if you can make it,” Leonard continued and then stood up. “Well, I better get going myself. I’ve got seven evaluations to finish writing up and I need to feed the cat.”

He watched Leonard pick up the black doctor’s bag from the floor before impulsively sitting up and offering Leonard his hand. “Thank you.”

Leonard immediately stepped forward to take his hand and shake it warmly. “Not that I’m encouraging you, but if you find yourself in that kind of situation again, do us both a favour and--”

“Forget you exist?” he interrupted jokingly.

“Call me right off the bat,” Leonard finished with a grin. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed and then watched Leonard leave before putting the coffee cup down on the table and settling back on the couch.

With a bit of luck, he’d wake up in a few hours and think this whole day had been just one long, erotic nightmare. 

Yeah, right.

His stomach growled loudly and he realised he still hadn’t eaten.

 

 

End


End file.
